Lovers
by handful of sky
Summary: The status quo is irretrievably broken, but just how much change are Castle and Beckett prepared to handle?


This was originally intended to be the final entry in **Hit Me With Your Best Prompt**, my reader-prompted drabble series. However, the prompt (by dallynoda) refused to be limited to 100 words, so I decided to give the idea free rein and see where it took me. Many thanks to Tango Mike Charlie for the quick beta.

Disclaimer: Castle belongs to ABC.

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><p><strong>Lovers<strong>

Castle drums his fingers nervously on the tabletop, but Kate studiously ignores him. He picks up a police report and makes an earnest effort to read it, not once, but three times, before admitting to himself that the status quo is irretrievably broken and it's time to do something about it. This isn't the setting he would have liked, but there are wineglasses and Chinese food cartons scattered across her dining table, and it's not that much of a stretch to call it a dinner date. With the caseload they've been under lately, the atmosphere is as intimate as it's likely to get in the near future.

He's usually good with words and it's not as though he's never had practice with these in particular, but this feels different—like he's teetering on the finest of lines between agony and ecstasy, wholly uncertain of which side he'll wind up on. He closes the file in front of him and clears his throat. "There's something I need to ask you."

"Yes," she says without looking up as she flips another file open.

He ruthlessly tamps down the instinctive burst of elation. "You haven't even heard the question yet," he objects.

"Yes, I'll go to Ryan's wedding with you." She finally looks up from her pile of paperwork. "Don't worry," she smiles wryly, "I'll be sure to avoid the bouquet this time."

"That's not it." It was so _not_ it. "I mean, I would love to go with you," he amends quickly, "but that's not what I was going to say."

"Fine, then, ask away."

He does, and she ends up with a very un-Beckett-like case of the giggles.

Castle doesn't know what he expected. Disbelief? Certainly. Indignation? Possibly. But her laughter cuts a little deeper than he anticipated. "So I take it that you don't need time to think about it?" he asks softly.

Her smile takes away the worst of the sting, but it falters as she finally realizes that he's dead serious. Her eyes widen and her lips part with surprise and he finds himself fighting the latest in a long series of impulses to close the distance between them and kiss her senseless.

She obviously has other ideas and doesn't bother to mince words. "I didn't realize...Castle, it's ridiculous, even for you. We're not even in a—"

"Relationship? Of course we are." He slides off of his stool and rounds the table, standing next to her and deliberately invading her space in the same way that she's taken up permanent residence in his thoughts. He doesn't often use his size to his advantage, but this is one time that he's willing to make an exception. "You and I have been in a relationship since the day we met." He can see the truth of the statement reflected back in her eyes. "And it's gotten stronger, and deeper, and so damn intense that it scares the hell out of me sometimes. I know it scares you too," he adds gently as she ducks her head to avoid his gaze, "but denying those feelings doesn't mean they don't exist."

She lifts her glass and drains it before speaking carefully. "I would be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind, but this isn't rational, Castle. It's much too soon."

"Three years is too soon?" He frowns at the cynicism in his voice and fights to temper it. "You're afraid of getting hurt again, I get that, but I had hoped it would reassure you to know that I can't imagine the thought of leaving so much as a pinky toe out the door, not where you're concerned. Call me selfish, Kate. Call me a greedy bastard, but I want all of you."

She cradles the empty glass between her palms. "Or none?"

"Never." He takes the glass from her, sets it on the table, and considers it at least a partial victory when she lets him take her hands in his. "Just all that you're willing to give. You told me that you couldn't be the kind of person you want to be or have the kind of relationships you want to have until you put your mother's case to rest. I'm not asking you to forget about that, but maybe putting it to rest doesn't have to mean solving her case as much as overcoming it."

She jerks her hands out of his grasp. "Castle, if you're suggesting that I just learn to live with it—"

"With it? No. Kate, I'm suggesting that you _live._ In spite of it. I think this could work. I know it could, but if I'm pushing too hard, just tell me to drop it."

She takes a few steps away and gives him her back for the longest minute of his life while he vacillates between the warring desires to pull her into his arms and to give her enough space and time to think.

When she finally turns to face him again, she looks determined. "I had this life," she says. "I think of it as Beckett, B.C. Before Castle. Some parts of it were great, and the ones that weren't..." she shakes her head ruefully, "well, if I didn't think about them too much, I could pretend they didn't matter."

"Until I brought everything out into the open." Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he feels the sharp pangs of guilt ripple through him. "Kate, I am so sorry—"

"You remind me of Pandora," she interrupts, "gifted by the gods with brains, looks—and curiosity. What was let loose can't be put back, but Rick, you didn't create the evil and the greed and the violence. They were there all along. Even if I had never met you, even if you hadn't investigated my mom's murder, I believe that Raglan would've still contacted me when he knew he was dying. And the only thing worse than going through this would have been doing it alone."

For the first time since his hesitant confession in that hallway across from Sorenson's hospital room, he feels truly forgiven—like the part he played in shattering her life all over again was somehow offset by his staying around to help pick up the pieces. "I'm not the same person I was three years ago," he admits. "Being with you, working by your side—I'm not just different, Kate, I'm better, and I owe it to you. It's time you knew that," he swallows hard against the lump in his throat and finishes hoarsely, "but if this is too hard for you, we can act like this conversation never happened."

She shakes her head. "I'm done pretending. When Pandora's Box was opened, there was one thing that remained inside. Do you remember what it was?"

"Of course. It was hope."

A single tear winds its way down to her cheekbone before she wipes at it distractedly. "There were times when I thought I might have lost that too. But you held onto it for me."

"Not just for you. For both of us."

"Think you can go on doing that?"

He doesn't have to think about his answer. "Always."

She nods and takes a step toward him. Then another, and another, and suddenly her hands are in his and oh, her eyes are shining with something he's afraid to put a name to. "Then ask me again, Rick."

He lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. The right words may have escaped him before, but now he knows exactly what he wants to say. A gentle tug at the delicate chain around her neck reveals her most valued possession. "This is in memory of your mother, whose life you lost." He takes her wrist gently and runs the pad of his thumb around the rough contours of her watch. "And this is for your father, for the life you saved." Her eyes widen slightly as he takes the ring box from his pocket and flips it open. He spent hours agonizing over the choice, but the diamond and its low-profile platinum setting are almost as beautiful and resilient as she is. Almost. "Will you wear this for me? For the life you transformed?"

"Yes," she whispers.

He feels hot all over, his skin tight with the effort to contain his joy, and his heart seems to take up his entire chest. Both of their hands tremble as he slips the ring onto her finger. She steps into his arms and rests her head on his shoulder. Her arms wrap themselves around his neck as his gently encircle her waist. They stand like that, just taking comfort in each other's presence, for a long time before he finally asks, "You okay?"

"Better than okay," she mumbles against his shirt. "You know this is crazy, right?"

"Then they can ship us off to the asylum together," he chuckles. "Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'committed relationship'."

"We've never even slept together," she says wonderingly. "Hell, we've only kissed once, and I'm not even sure that should count."

He snorts softly. "Given the amount of time I spent reliving that moment, believe me, it counts. And we were pretty damn good at it, as I recall."

"Yeah, we were. That doesn't necessarily mean that we're going to be compatible, though."

"I don't need to know your body to know who you are. And who you are is absolutely...extraordinary. I refuse to believe that we would be anything less than amazing together." He deliberately slides his hand under the hem of her shirt and uses his fingertips to trace tiny circles in the small of her back, smiling as she shivers under his touch.

She lifts her head and smiles brazenly at him. "Talk is cheap, Castle."

"Then let lips do what hands do." He buries his face in her neck, nuzzling the spot just below her ear.

There's a quick, indrawn breath from her, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, nimble fingers begin to insinuate themselves inside the collar of his shirt.

He plants little kisses all along the edge of her jaw and across the smooth column of her neck, up one side and down the other, but he studiously avoids kissing her on the lips. On the night that they captured Lockwood, Castle simply grabbed her, without warning and without permission and, God help him, he didn't regret it one bit in spite of the fact that she was dating someone else. This time, he's determined to wait her out, coming closer and closer to her mouth, teasing, touching, tantalizing, but waiting until the moment that she finally takes his face between her hands and kisses him firmly.

She's soft and warm and willing, and finally, _finally _his, just as much as he is hers. This kiss is far less desperate, far more intimate, and infinitely more satisfying because he knows it's not the last. For the next few minutes, they're this wild tangle of lips and tongues and hands and heat, and he doesn't even try to hide a smug I-told-you-so grin when they reluctantly pull away from one another.

"Well?" he smiles. "Have I made you a believer?"

"Still not convinced," she teases. "I think we should put the question to bed."

"Now?" There's a bright flare of warmth in his midsection that quickly makes its way south. "You're sure?"

"Did you really think you could kiss me like that and then expect me to wait?"

"I don't want you to think that I'm easy," she rolls her eyes as he lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it lightly, "but I will admit to a certain amount of curiosity about how you'd look wearing that ring and nothing else."

"There's one way to find out, Pandora."

His eyes follow her as she walks toward the bedroom. It's just a matter of time until he can honestly think those three little words that have been rattling around in his mind for some time now.

Friend. Partner. _Wife._

She looks back over her shoulder. "You coming?"

"Right behind you."

There's no place he'd rather be.

_fin_

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><p><em>Yeah, I'm well aware that this will never, EVER happen on screen, but what can I say? I'm a hopeful romantic ;-)<em>


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